


if the world was ending, you'd come over, right?

by incalyscent



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Apocalypse fic, F/M, Lowercase, POV Second Person, Post-Canon, how many of these can you take until y'all are tired of me, is this slightly tone deaf?? yeah, lil quarantine fic, local poet does poetry, maybe i'll actually write again if i have nothing else to do, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23403460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incalyscent/pseuds/incalyscent
Summary: the world ends.it doesn’t go out with a fizzle or a bang.  it goes quietly, in its sleep.  humanity had long died out.  earth grew her green plants and then when it was time, she closed her eyes.chloe decker had been dead for a long, long time.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 26
Kudos: 105





	if the world was ending, you'd come over, right?

**Author's Note:**

> but if the world was ending, you'd come over, right?  
> you'd come over and you'd stay the night  
> would you love me for the hell of it?  
> all our fears would be irrelevant
> 
> -jp saxe, _if the world was ending._

the world ends.

it doesn’t go out with a fizzle or a bang. it goes quietly, in its sleep. humanity had long died out. earth grew her green plants and then when it was time, she closed her eyes.

chloe decker had been dead for a long, long time.

you age with her, of course. you tell her  _ who doesn’t love a silver fox, anyways? _ and she laughs. you make her laugh, so much that as she gets older the creases around her eyes match the gaps between your feathers.

you watch her curl in on herself but she never looks frail. she dies peacefully, in her sleep, like you always hoped she would. trixie is there but she is not. when you touch her again, you know she is gone.

and then you don’t see her for a long, long time.

and it’s hard; you never tended to love things that death could touch before. it’s only so long before you outlive the ones that hold you. linda. ella. and it’s hard. trixie finds you knife in hand, wings spread and shaking and coaxes the blade from your hand. she had fault lines around her eyes. you cry. so does she.

love is the holiest thing you ever learned to know

and now you have to relearn it;

god taught you the indifference and it took you eons to figure out its opposite. chloe was the catalyst, but how could you flay yourself so open? love is not a knife but it has it’s sharp edges.

you’re there for trixie and her children. baby charlie, who isn’t a baby anymore, who connects heaven and earth like a livewire. amenadiel goes home after linda dies and when you say home you mean a little apartment complex somewhere outside los angeles and you don’t see him for a while. you can’t blame him.

and slowly

the world unfurls its wings around you

like you did to yours, so many years ago.

you watch it grow and change. you lose track of bloodlines, ley lines. you have no desire to rule this world, nothing dragging you back down. whatever light you still have, it’s only home is your body.

people are as cruel as they are lovely. you suppose you already knew that, were the scapegoat for it for eons. things change but they don’t. humanity is a constant. people give and are overshadowed by those who take. they love and they hate and think those things are opposing sides of the same coin.

you take new lovers but you don’t love them like you did her. she was it, you think. an eternity of sleeps and you give your heart to something so delicate. but really, how fragile was she really, if you’re still thinking about her thousands of years later. how easily you keep her eternal. how breathless it is, that you can still imagine her hands in your hair or laced in your fingers, even after all this time.

you’ve tried, but

you’re just not magic enough;

just blood waiting to spill

with no knife left to do it.

which is why you wait. humanity goes to sleep and you mourn them. they were not perfect, but you learned that messiness beguiles perfection. without anything left to believe in heaven and hell, do they exist?

maze teaches the demons how to be holy and amenadiel the angels to sin. without walls they find they are not so unalike. you hear them laughing. 

and as you watch the sun expand, a hand fits into yours. the life in it brings you to your knees, and instead of falling down you want to get right back up. you don’t need to say her name and she doesn’t need to say yours. the sun gets big and red; time has no value here, and they watch in real time as the earth is eaten up and barely chewed.

_ pity _ , she says, and her voice is the closest you’ll hear again to music,  _ i’d hoped there’d be stars _ .

and then there they were -

singing you home. 

**Author's Note:**

> keep it real y'all
> 
> incalyscent-writes.tumblr.com


End file.
